


Singing Naked on a Dark Empty Stage

by kennagirl



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Romantic Comedy, Theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 01:52:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kennagirl/pseuds/kennagirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rather than work on individual senior projects, the non-performance majors of the Everman University Theatre Department lobbied to work together on a single project: complete production of a musical. Of course, with minimal faculty supervision, drama is bound to happen. The director is prone to meltdowns, sound and lighting clash in a battle of wills, and something is going on between the costume designer and the publicity manager.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Singing Naked on a Dark Empty Stage

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my artist [emilywritescrap](http://emilywritescrap.livejournal.com/) and my beta [flyingsoftly](http://flyingsoftly.livejournal.com/).

**_20 weeks to opening night..._ **

“Hey! Hey!” Santana climbed onto a bar chair, whipping the fedora off her head and waving it around. Everyone looked up from wherever they were sprawled. “Alright bitches, let’s pick this thing before we get too drunk to read the titles.”

“Santana, get down from there before you hurt yourself!” Rachel yelled from the armchair she was curled up in with Sam.

“Calm your tits, Berry. I’ve only had half a beer, my balance isn’t gone yet.” To prove her point, she executed a small tap step she had learned through osmosis from the last musical she worked on. It would have been impressive even on the ground, given the fact that she was wearing four inch stilettos and a skirt that made even the most experienced Rockette jealous. Satisfied, Rachel nodded and went back to snuggling. Brittany gave a short burst of applause, then proceeded to pass out pencils and slips of paper to the senior techies. “Everyone write down a show you really want to do, then we’ll talk about which ones we think we can actually pull off before graduation."

“Also, I tracked down Brad,” Tina announced. “He agreed to be our musical director if we need one, so let’s show the choreographers in the room some love and pick a musical.”

“You can show the choreographer love all night long if you want, T,” Puck said, pouring himself a shot of tequila in the kitchen. “No one’s gonna stop you.”

“You say that now, Puck, but when you’re drunk cuddling my boyfriend at one in the morning, I’m calling you a cockblock.”

Puck threw back the shot and laughed as he entered the living room. Tina had a possessive hand high on Mike's thigh, and Mike's face was redder than normal from the blush he was sporting. Whether it was due to the near-groping, the suggestive banter, or the fact that he pre-gamed the Christmas party taking place in his apartment at the moment, Puck wasn't sure, but he'd put money on a combination of all three. "Well, I'm not one to get in the way of drunken sex between a pair of lovebirds, so I guess I'll pick someone else." He scanned the room. "How about you, Sammy? If Rachel isn't putting out, I'm not blocking anything there, am I?"

Rachel opened her mouth to voice her outrage, but was cut off by Kurt. "Can we get to the voting? I survived nineteen hours this semester and I deserve a drink. Puck, if you need someone to explore your bisexual side with, I will thrust myself upon the sword."

"Sounds dirty."

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Seriously, let’s go.” He held up a folded slip of paper. “I’ve got mine right here.”

Santana tossed Kurt the hat with a flick of her wrist. He caught it deftly and put his vote inside. While Puck snagged a slip and pencil from Brittany, Kurt went around and collected the choices, tapping his foot impatiently when he had to wait for Puck to think and write down his decision. Once everything was in there, he returned the hat to Santana. “You may proceed, o master of ceremonies.”

“Better believe it,” she muttered, drawing the first show at random. “Okay, first up for consideration is… _Rent_.” She looked around. “Discussion?”

The general consensus was that it was a good option, with an appropriate sized cast and no major issues with tech or content. It seemed like they’d settled on a project on the first try, until Rachel said, “But didn’t the department do _Rent_ three years before we were freshmen?”

Everyone was silent a moment, then Artie pulled out his phone to check the list of past seasons on the department website. “I’ll be damned. They did.”

Mercedes sighed. “Oh well. It’s popular enough that I’ll get to work on it eventually if I really want to. Let’s go to the next.”

The next slip was pulled and Santana groaned as she read it. “ _Spider-Man_? Really, Trouty Mouth? Really?”

“You said a show we wanted to do!” Sam said defensively. “I want to work on _Spider-Man_. At least until a better superhero stage show comes along.”

“But it’s so _bad_ , Sam.” Rachel wriggled away from him, half-laughing. “I don’t know if I can be with someone who wants to work on that monstrosity.”

“Come on, Rach,” he said, pulling her back into his side. “I could totally rehab it. Either that or the Superman musical from the sixties. Think of all the harness work…”

“That’s exactly why we can’t do it,” Kurt said. “You know perfectly well that our fly systems aren’t set up for harness work.”

Sam looked like he wanted to respond, but simply deflated and grumbled. Rachel petted his hair and attempted to console him until Santana read the next name.

“Did you really have to dot the ‘i’ in _Wicked_ with a star, Rachel?”

She scoffed. “I’ve always given star effort, despite the fact that I don’t see myself on the stage, so of course I—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Quinn cut in. “More harness work, especially in ‘Defying Gravity.’ Therefore, not a viable show.”

“But…” Rachel pouted, but Sam began giving her the same treatment she had given him. She swatted at his hand and pouted more, much to the amusement of everyone in the room. Eventually she cracked a smile and asked Santana to continue.

Santana smiled as she read the name of the next play. “ _Angels in America, Part 1_. Drama, drag queens, and special effects galore. You may all bow at my feet for an excellent choice. I can already picture how the burning book is going to go off.”

“You mean how you would want for it to go off, if we could ever do this play,” Artie said. “Dr. Figgins banned pyrotechnics after Sue got a little too enthusiastic working on _Blue Leaves_.”

“That wasn’t even pyro,” Santana said, waving a hand dismissively.

“But it was close enough, and now we can barely have a lighter on stage without three fire extinguishers ready and waiting in the wings.”

“Just give it up, Tana,” Puck said. “Save your big ideas of blowing shit up for a paying stage.”

“Fine.” She grabbed the next paper. “ _Oklahoma!_ No. Next.”

“Hey, wait,” Mike said, sitting up sharply. “Why not?”

“Look dude, we all know you want to put together the Dream Ballet, but the rest of the show sucks.” She looked around. “Everyone who wanted to fall asleep when Will made us watch that damn show on recording, raise your hand.”

Every hand but Rachel and Mike’s went up, then even Rachel raised hers grudgingly. “Given the chance, I could make some changes that would revolutionize—”

“Nope, majority rules.” Santana dropped the slip to the floor, letting it flutter down to join the others scattered at the base of the chair. “Now we have _Assassins_.” She looked at the slip. “I think this is actually a good choice.”

“It has a manageable cast, some decent choreography opportunities, period costumes,” Tina said, “and the kind of history I can really sink my teeth into putting together an info packet.”

“Of course you have an ulterior motive,” Puck said. “What about the guns? Do we have anyone here with decent amounts of gun handling experience?”

Sam stuck his hand in the air, the only one. “Really? No one else?”

“Dad taught me how use the rifle for safety purposes when I was ten,” Kurt admitted, “but I’ve never dealt with hand guns.”

“I got the same when Mom and I moved in at seventeen,” Finn said. “But I also have a ton of experience on Call of Duty.”

Puck wanted to say something about it not being the same, but held himself back. “So we got one guy that knows guns and one guy willing to learn. I think that should be enough to satisfy Figgins that we have firearms under control. Makes the show possible.”

“Okay, so we have a maybe,” Santana said, tucking the slip into her jeans pocket instead of letting it go before picking another. “ _Major Barbara_.” She looked around. “Anyone wanna own up?”

Artie spoke up. “It’s a classic show, one with a message that will really make the audience think.”

“It’s also really hard to read,” Brittany said.

“The audience won’t be reading it, Britt, they’ll be watching it. Like how we read _Hamlet_ for class, and Puck couldn’t get it until we watched the David Tennant version.”

Puck started to protest, because fuck that, Bill was a tough writer to get through, but Quinn interrupted. “I think Brittany has a point. It’s an incredibly dense script, plus I doubt there would be enough positions for all of us unless we started appointing assistants. It would be a good studio show, but we’re trying to put together a main stage here.” Artie looked dejected, but waved Santana on to the next show.

“Next for the chopping block…” She squinted at the slip of paper. “I’m guessing this is Puckerman’s, because I can’t read it. I think that says ‘whore,’ but I can’t really—”

“Shut up, it’s _Best Little Whorehouse in Texas_.” Puck smiled at his classmates. “Dance numbers, eye candy for boys and girls alike, regardless of who they’re into. It’s like a classy strip show.”

“You just have fantasies about the girls tearing off their dresses for the football players,” Kurt said, smirking.

He turned and winked. “You caught me.”

“Guys, we have to put this before the senior projects board,” Mercedes reminded them. “Figgins might be down with it, but there’s bound to be someone there who will see ‘whorehouse’ and stick a rejection on it.”

“But it’s a love story!” Kurt cried.

“It’s cool,” Puck said. “I’m not married to the idea, I just needed to put something down and it’s the first one that came to mind. Although by that logic, it might be tough to pass _Assassins_ too.”

“Well considering it’s the most viable choice so far, we’re holding on to it,” Santana said. “Plus, we’d need a slew of pretty people to pull that off, and let’s face it, we got the best-looking people in the department sitting in this room.” She leaned back to grab her beer to lift in a toast. The few who were holding drinks echoed the move. She took a quick swig, then went back to business. “ _West Side Story_. Didn’t the group from Sherwood Community College do that a month ago?”

“No, but see, we can do it better!” Finn said. “They probably don’t have our training and resources, so it can’t have been that good, right?”

“One, we’re not in the business of trying to outdo other schools, Finn,” Tina said. “At least, not that blatantly. Two, their production was actually pretty good. Mike and I saw it for date night while it was running.” Mike nodded absently, probably not paying attention. “Their set was excellent, minimal but beautifully so, and there was incredible attention to detail in their costume color schemes…”

As Tina continued her analysis of Sherwood’s production, Puck felt something brushing against his arm. He glanced down to see Kurt pressed against him. Raising his eyebrows, he almost said something about getting their cuddle on early, but Kurt spoke.

“So what’s your real draw to the Chicken Ranch? Somehow I doubt it’s solely on the basis of the rip-away gowns.”

“Ma’s a Dolly Parton fan with a thing for Burt Reynolds. You?”

“Dad’s a fan of Dolly Parton’s rack in madam’s clothes.”

Puck snorted, causing Tina to direct a small glare at him, but breaking the spell of her retelling. Santana stole the spotlight yet again. “Okay, _West Side_ is out. Thank god, because I didn’t feel like being a dialect coach and trying to get everyone a convincing accent. I’d end up stabbing someone with one of the fake knives and I don’t think we have the liability insurance for my lack of patience with stupidity.” She pulled the next slip. “ _Seussical the Musical_.”

The chorus of “NO”s from around the room was deafening.

Brittany stuck her lower lip out in a faked pout. “It’s a good idea to have experience with children’s shows.”

“But the rhyming, Britt, the rhyming,” Puck said.

“It’s not that bad. You get used to it quickly.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Finn said. Before the room could turn on him, he held up his hands. “Hear me out. Large cast with enough dancing for two choreographers, lots of playing around with design because it’s so crazy, and it’s Seuss, so it’s something we all know and have fond memories of, plus there’s history. We get used to Shakespeare rhyme easily enough, why not Seuss rhyme?”

There was silence as Brittany beamed at Finn. Quinn said quietly, “He makes some good points.”

“Fine, it goes with _Assassins_.” Santana tucked it into her jeans. “Okay, now we have another vote for _Wicked_.”

“I know, I know,” Kurt said, waving his hand.

“Yeah, Kurt, you know perfectly well that our fly systems aren’t set up for harness work,” Sam mocked.

“Shut up, Sam, I just got excited, okay? I wasn’t thinking, just toss it away.”

Santana balled it up and pelted it at Kurt’s head. “Last and probably least, we have,” she unfolded the final paper, “ _M. Butterfly_. Quinn, discuss.”

“There’s a lot that can be done design-wise, as well as directing, and it’s a piece that will have an impact,” Quinn said. “I just think it could be good to see on a college level.”

“The only problem is that Mike is the only guy in the department who physically fits the part of Song.” Tina poked her boyfriend. “Hey Mike, do you wanna play a man who pretends to be a woman and then gets naked on stage?”

He looked at her blearily. “You mean act? No thank you. I did my time in the 24-hour play festival sophomore year. I’m done acting.”

“Well, kinda hard to do a show about a Chinese man playing a woman when you don’t even have an Asian man to fill the role.” Quinn rolled her eyes, but appeared to agree with Tina because she dropped it.

Dropping the hat back on her head, Santana held up the two shows. “Okay, so we have _Assassins_ and _Seussical_. I’m assuming everyone is relatively familiar with the shows?” When everyone nodded, she said, “Great, so let’s hold a vote. All those for the one with crazy people and guns, raise your hand.” Tina’s hand shot into the air, as did Puck’s, followed soon by Rachel and Kurt. “That’s four. How many want crazy people and bright colors?” Sam smiled and raised his hand, as did Finn. Mike shuffled away from Tina and signaled his decision, muttering about proper choreography opportunities. Quinn also raised her hand, as did Mercedes. Brittany was bright-eyed and bouncing as she gave her obvious vote. Artie seemed more reluctant, but lifted his as well. “Okay, with no abstaining, we have four to eight in favor of the never-ending rhyme. Should we dole out the jobs now, or wait until we’ve all read the script?”

“We can do the obvious and see if anything shakes out,” Kurt suggested.

“Mike and I can choreograph!” Brittany called out.

“I want to be the dramaturg,” Tina said.

“Trust me, no one was going to fight on those,” Santana muttered. “Anyone else want to stake claims?”

“I’ll run publicity,” Puck offered. “Keep me as far away from the rhyming as possible.”

“I would love to direct,” Rachel said, “unless anyone already has ideas they wish to put into place.” She glanced at Artie, the one most likely to challenge her for the spot.

“Have at it,” he said. “I actually want a chance to sound design a musical before I leave instead of only getting experience on plays.”

“We’ll probably need two for stage management, one in the booth and one to keep things running on the ground.” Quinn looked at Mercedes. “Team up for one last show?”

“Hell, yeah,” Mercedes said, giving Quinn a high-five. “I think between the two of us, we can keep Scary Berry in line when she shows up.”

“I resent that remark!”

“Give it time and you’ll resemble that remark,” Kurt said. “You forget that we’ve all worked with you before.”

Rachel continued to pout, until Santana spoke again. “Okay, so we have four of us left, and design spots to fill. Kurt, I know you wanted to try and branch out for once, but you’re the only one of us left that might be able to churn out costumes that will look half-decent.”

“I expected as much,” he sighed. “Very well, I’ll see what I come up with.”

“Excellent. Now boys,” she looked at Sam and Finn. “Since I don’t get to light things up with flame, I want to be lighting them up with electrics. I’ll let you two decide between set and props.” The boys looked at each other and Finn held up a fist. A quick round of rock-paper-scissors had Finn fist-pumping with his rock and claiming props. Sam shrugged and said he was cool with set.

“We done now?” Puck asked. Without waiting for an answer, he took off for the kitchen and grabbed the tray of Jell-O shots out of the fridge. They had been his responsibility and he’d made them in Mike’s kitchen the day before to let them set overnight. “I know we still have finals before the semester’s over, but let’s face it, we got this shit,” he said as he passed one to each person. “So here’s to us, seven down, one to go. And then we’re released to the big bad world as the most well-educated waiters and waitresses anyone has ever seen.” They all laughed at Sue’s usual prediction of their futures unless they applied themselves. “But for now, let’s get drunk and get handsy!” Everyone cheered as they downed their shots, the less frequent drinkers grimacing at the strong alcohol taste. Puck swallowed his in one, shooting a wink at Kurt. Kurt rolled his eyes and turned to Mercedes, discussing the final in the marketing course they’d decided to take together. Laughing, Puck went back to the kitchen to play bartender. He’d be wrapped around Kurt Hummel before the night was out.

* * *

**_12 weeks to opening night..._**

Puck set the blue plastic plate on the drying rack next to the sink. “Tina, come on, let’s go!” he yelled into the house. “Meeting starts at four and I don’t want Quinn and Mercedes pissed at us this early.” Finn was polishing off a pudding cup at the counter in the kitchen and Puck was scrubbing up a few dishes so he wouldn’t have to do them later. The whole living on his own thing was harder than he thought, even with two roommates. He kept up with the kitchen, Finn made sure the shared bathroom was sanitary, and Tina was on living room duty for dusting and vacuuming. Bedrooms and laundry were their own problems, although whoever was starting a load usually asked the others if there was anything they wanted thrown in. Puck knew from his ma and sister not to put bras in the dryer, but Finn had to learn the hard way, which ended with Tina smacking him with her costume history textbook.

A door slammed down the hall, and Tina waltzed into the kitchen like they had all the time in the world. “And why are you waiting around for me if you’re so worried about the time? I have my own car.” She opened the fridge and examined it before grabbing a bottle of water from the communal case on the bottom shelf.

“Finn’s truck is making weird noises again, so I figured why take my bike if we can all carpool?”

She scoffed and took a drink from the water bottle. “You just want to ride in a car with heating instead of pedaling through the cold.”

“Can you blame me?”

Instead of answering, Tina capped the bottle and grabbed her keys. The boys followed her out to the car, Finn tossing the empty plastic cup in the trash as he passed it. There was a brief wrestling match over who would get shotgun and who would sit in the backseat filled with fast food wrappers and library books, which Finn won. Puck scowled as he crawled in, shifting a stack of books about the Gothic era and a Taco Bell bag to find the seat belt buckle. He thought about bitching, but he knew that she’d probably stop and make him get out and ride his bike anyway. She could have a mean streak like that.

They drove the short distance to campus, almost running over a small cluster of teens from the high school down the street who decided to cross without looking. It was a common hazard, but one that never failed to make Puck swear under his breath about fucking punks. If his ma had heard him, she’d remind him he used to be one of those punks back home and that he needed to watch his language.

His ma lived to knock him down a peg or two.

Tina parked in a lot close to the theatre. Close for campus parking, anyway. It was still a bit of a hike into the building, one that had them rubbing their hands together against the biting wind even until they got to the green room in the basement. Everyone else was seated around the center table. Quinn and Mercedes had binders open in front of them, already in stage management mode. Rachel was bouncing in her seat and had a remote control in her hand, most likely for the screen and projector Artie was fiddling with on one side of the room. Brittany and Mike had their heads together, probably plotting choreography. Mike looked up and puckered his lips for a kiss when he saw Tina, which she gave him once she sat down on his other side. Santana had her neutral face on, which looked a little like a scowl, waiting for the meeting to start. Sam was already doodling on sheets of paper, most likely because Rachel had practiced her concept presentation on him and he knew what she wanted. Kurt was in the same boat, Puck saw as he sat down next to him. There was a rough sketch of a girl on the page, wearing a sleeveless jumpsuit. A little bow was plainly sitting on her ass.

“Who’s that supposed to be?”

Kurt jumped a little when he realized Puck was next to him. He had been doing that a lot since the Christmas party. Puck had tried to talk to him, but it had been a pretty busy month while they settled back into classes. “It’s an idea for Gertrude. I’m going to rough sketch everyone before I decide if this is the concept I want to go with. So far I’ve got her and Mayzie. Polar opposites.”

“Huh,” he said, glancing at the short dress on another figure. “Cool.” Puck opened his mouth to say something else, but was cut off by Quinn.

“Okay, it’s four o’ clock, time to get started.” Apparently she was taking the lead on this show. “Welcome to the first production meeting of the joint senior project, _Seussical the Musical_.” She paused for the cheers she knew they would let out. “Anybody have any pressing business before we have Rachel’s concept presentation?”

Sam raised his hand and Quinn nodded to him. “I just want to remind everyone that we have to help each other out with this. We’re getting a lot of leeway being granted shop space, but we don’t have the manpower usually available to a department production. We’re allowed to draft our friends, but Dr. Figgins isn’t forcing anyone to sign onto our crews. Especially for building, things are going to be tight. So I think the designers should be allowed to make open calls for anyone available to come help. Whether I’m painting or Kurt’s sewing or Santana’s hanging, we need to help each other.”

“You know me,” Puck said. “Jack of all trades, master of none. Just let me know when and where and I’ll be there.” Sam leaned over Kurt to offer his fist, which Puck gladly bumped. Everyone else around the table was nodding, Finn looking a little panicked, probably at the thought of Kurt making him stitch together some complicated costume.

“Alright, anything else?” Quinn asked. When no one spoke, she looked to Rachel. “You have the floor, Rachel.”

“Thank you, Quinn.” Rachel stood and smoothed her skirt. She walked over to the light switch and flipped it, plunging the room into darkness until the screen flared white, Artie having dropped the paper blocking the projector light. “Oh the thinks you can think,” she intoned. “That’s a recurring line throughout the show. Seuss is all about imagination, and this show is no different.”

Rachel had definitely practiced several times, if the way Kurt and Sam were mouthing along to certain parts was any indication. Rather than pay attention, because he already had a plan for the programs, he leaned over to put his mouth next to Kurt’s ear.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Kurt flinched at the proximity. “Excuse me?”

“Since we got back. You sit on the opposite side of the room from me in every class we share. You move away when we drift too close walking down the hall. You haven’t been to our house once this semester and I live with your brother.”

“Stepbrother,” Kurt reminded him.

“Whatever, I know you’re doing those Friday family dinner things at his and Rachel’s place every week instead of trading off like you did in the fall.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Or you’re avoiding me.”

Kurt shot him a glare. “Shouldn’t you be paying attention? I’ve seen this before, but you haven’t.”

“The only work I have to do with her concept is the program.” He shrugged. “It’s Seuss, so I slap the Cat’s Hat on the cover and I’m done. Everything else is strategy. Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not avoiding you.”

“Bullshit.”

Both boys were silent for a few moments, and phrases like ‘distinctive art style’ and ‘draw their own conclusions’ drifted over them. Then Kurt spoke so quietly, Puck wasn’t even sure he heard him.

“You know why I’ve been avoiding you.”

Puck’s brow furrowed. “Um, no I don’t. That’s why I’m asking you about it.”

Kurt looked horrorstruck. “Do you really not remember? Oh god, did that happen and you don’t even remember?”

“Remember what?” Puck was growing impatient. He wanted to know what he’d done that was so horrible.

“At the Christmas party, after we both got drunk, when we—”

“Are you talking about us making out?” Kurt blinked. “Because I totally remember that. What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s just— I don’t do that sort of thing, Puck. I don’t sneak outside for ‘fresh air’ in order to make out with a boy at a party.” He could practically hear the finger quotes, but that wasn’t the part that caught his attention.

“I’m not just some guy you thought looked hot at one of Sam’s club rugby parties,” Puck said. “I’m a guy you have almost every class with, your history study buddy. It’s kinda hard to ignore me when we practically live in this building, along with everyone else in the department.”

“I’ve been doing a pretty good job of it up until now,” Kurt snapped. Puck blinked at him, surprised by the force behind the words.

“Fine. Whatever.” He turned to face Rachel, catching the tail end of a spiel about which stories were covered in the musical. He could feel Kurt shrinking beside him, probably rethinking what he’d just said, but Puck wasn’t about to roll over and make it easy. As far as he was concerned, he hadn’t done anything wrong. Kurt was just going to have to figure out his own problems and come to Puck when he did.

* * *

**_10 weeks to opening night..._**

Two weeks later saw the three housemates in similar positions as they had been before the last meeting: Puck was putting away the dishes from the drying rack, Finn was eating yogurt that he’d stolen from Kurt and Rachel’s fridge, and Tina was somewhere in the back of the house getting ready. Puck nearly dropped the plates he was holding when Finn asked, “What happened with you and Kurt?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Dude, I’m not stupid.” Finn turned the spoon over and licked the back. “Kurt was weird about you after Christmas, and now you’re both weird about each other. That doesn’t happen for no reason.”

“What doesn’t happen for no reason?” Tina asked as she walked in, stuffing her laptop into a bag already full of books.

“Puck and Kurt being weird.”

“You mean weirder than usual?” She jumped to the side as Puck snapped the dishtowel at her. “We’re theatre people, weird is in the job description. I think Quinn is the closest to normal we have, and even she has her moments.”

“Yeah, but they’re being weird about each other.” Finn scraped his spoon around the edges of the yogurt cup. “Like, if I mention Puck to Kurt, he changes the subject. And Puck won’t even look at Kurt most of the time.”

“When Kurt stopped in last week to pick up some clothes I borrowed from him, Puck left the living room,” Tina said. “You’re right.”

“I’m standing right here, guys.” Finn and Tina looked at Puck, a little startled. Apparently they had forgotten he was there. “What happened between me and Kurt is between me and Kurt. I know most of the department doesn’t get the whole privacy thing, but seriously, back off. We’ll figure it out eventually.”

Tina looked skeptical. “Will you really, though? Because Kurt’s stubborn and you can be too. I just don’t want it to be awkward when I invite both of you to my wedding and you can’t even look at each other.”

Finn dropped his spoon. “Wait. Did Mike—”

“Just making a point, Finn.” Finn looked a little disappointed at that.

“I’ll talk to him today, okay?” Puck said. “Just— let us handle it, alright? I’ll tell you if I need a hand sorting it out, alright?”

This appeared to satisfy Tina, as she grinned and grabbed her keys off the counter. “You guys want a ride or not?” Puck chucked the dishtowel at Finn’s face and made a break for the car, grabbing his backpack as he went. He made it to the passenger side just as Finn exited the house and slid into the seat quickly. Finn pouted, but acknowledged defeat by opening the back door. Tina just laughed.

Unlike the previous meeting, they were not the last ones there by far. Only Quinn and Mercedes were there, doing stage manager things that Puck had never gotten a grasp on. All technical and production majors were required to take a stage management course, but those two had taken to it like set painters to brick detail.

Puck opened his laptop and called up his design for the programs so he’d have it when Rachel asked. All the preliminary designs were being shown today, after the time spent brainstorming and sketching. Finn and Sam had spent a lot of time together fleshing out some of the particulars of a few scenes as they were most bound by the artistic style of Seuss. He was stacking up his sketches, and Puck caught a glimpse of what looked like One Fish, Two Fish, probably for McElligot’s pool. Tina also had her laptop open to some early research on whatever it was Rachel had wanted her to research.

Over the next fifteen minutes, the rest of the crew filed in. They took their seats around the long center table, almost the exact same position they had been last time. The only difference was that Artie had rolled up next to Puck after Kurt sat as far away as possible. Not only that, he refused to make eye contact.

Once the meeting was called to order, the designers took turns presenting their personal concepts, with the others asking questions and making comments to keep them thinking. Sam and Finn had clearly been doing their research, because their work was spot-on in matching the traditional style of art. Santana didn’t have much to present, as she had to wait for the set to be finalized before she could start lighting it, but she did mention a few specials she had on order. Artie played a few sound clips he’d been experimenting with, especially different elephant trumpets, and Puck showed off his giant picture of the iconic Hat on his laptop. Tina just gave a brief synopsis of the research she had been doing and waved on past the stage managers to Mike and Brittany. The choreographers had been working with Rachel regularly since the first meeting, but they still showed a small sample of the dancing for the Hunches number. When they were done, everyone clapped and looked at Kurt expectantly.

He stood up and opened his sketchbook to the first page, a man in a black tux with tails, white shirt and gloves, and a big red bow tie.

“With such familiar characters, it’s hard to replicate them exactly for the audience,” he said. “So, instead of making them into the characters, I’ll be providing just enough to suggest which character they are. Can anyone guess who this might be?”

“The Cat in the Hat,” Brittany said confidently.

“Exactly.” He flipped the page to another man, this one in all in gray, with a gray beanie on his head.

“Horton!”

“Very good, Rachel.” Page by page he went through, allowing them to guess the famous ones and telling them the bit characters. Puck had to admit that the transformation for Gertrude was well-thought out, although his favorites had to be the Bird Girls. If you took off the tails, they looked like something he might see walking down the street in the summer. The costumes gave strong hints, but let the audience use their imagination at the same time.

After Kurt’s presentation, Rachel gave a few closing remarks and Quinn dismissed them all. Puck was quick to pack up, then made a beeline to Kurt. He was still glancing through the sketchbook, probably ruminating on something Santana said about Mayzie still being too classy. Sensing someone beside him, he glanced up into Puck’s eyes. There was a moment of question, then determination as he snapped the book shut and tossed it into his bag.

“We need to talk.”

Puck hadn’t expected Kurt to be the one to bring it up, but it made him feel better knowing he hadn’t completely broken his word to himself. “Yeah, we do.”

They walked out of the green room in silence. Because Kurt had been the one to actually bring it up, Puck let him lead the way. They wound through the building, passing workshops and lockers. Finally, Kurt pulled out his key ring and unlocked the dressing room used for smaller shows. It wasn’t used often, mostly because there was no separate area for boys and girls, but it was nice enough and the make-up class usually worked in there.

Kurt dropped his bag onto the center table and hopped onto the counter, his back resting against the mirror. “Finn cornered me about why I’ve been avoiding you.”

Puck put his backpack on the ground and sat at the table, his feet propped up. “Same here, only Tina got in on it as well. She played the guilt card about wanting everyone to get along at her wedding. Not that it’s happening,” he said, cutting Kurt off as his eyes lit up. “At least, not yet.” They all knew that Mike and Tina were going to be together forever, but Puck was the only one that knew Mike had bought a ring and was going to ask over Spring Break. As one of Tina’s best friends and the one least likely to spill the beans, Mike had asked for his help picking it out.

“Well, Finn put on the puppy dog eyes and asked why his brother and his roommate weren’t getting along anymore.” Kurt rolled his eyes. “I tried to tell him to mind his own business, but he just looked sad. We need to at least be civil, for his sake.”

“So what, we just pretend nothing happened? Act like we didn’t totally tongue fuck each other on Mike’s landing?”

Kurt was sitting stiffly. “That would be ideal, yes.”

Puck scoffed and looked away. “Dude, I don’t get it. What’s the big deal? I’m pretty sure most of the department has kissed each other between stage and the constantly changing relationships. Anyone who hasn’t is no more than two degrees away from having macked on someone else. How else do you think the yearly flu outbreak spreads twice as fast as it does on the rest of campus?” He kept watching Kurt, who was determined not to make eye contact. “Unless you’re ashamed of me or something.”

His eyes cut back to Puck quickly. “It’s not you I’m ashamed of,” Kurt explained. “It’s me. I’m ashamed of myself.” He sighed and pressed his fingertips to his eyelids, massaging gently. “Like I told you, I’m not someone who sneaks around or makes out at parties because I’m drunk and he’s cute. And I’ve been having trouble making that fit into my image of who I am. This sounds horribly cliché, but it’s not you, it’s me.”

Kurt’s reasoning made sense to Puck. It did sound like a cliché, but he knew Kurt well enough after three and a half years to know he was telling the truth. It was Kurt’s problem he had to work out, and Puck should just step back and try not to take it personally. There was one part sticking out in his mind. “You think I’m cute?”

Kurt rolled his eyes and slid off the counter. “I’ll see you later, Puck.”

“Seriously, you pick cute? Not smoking hot or devastatingly sexy? _Cute?_ ” He watched as Kurt picked up his bag, grabbed the keys, and walked to the door, locking it.

“I’m not stroking your ego.” He turned off the light and took off down the hall.

Puck bolted out the door, trying to grab the handle and shut it behind him. “I know something else you can stroke.”

“Goodbye, Puck!”

_To: Kurt (11:45pm)_  
Does this mean you’ll be making eye contact with me again?

_From: Kurt (12:02am)_  
That would be part of acting like normal.

_To: Kurt (12:07am)_  
What about talking during class?

_From: Kurt (12:08am)_  
If there’s a reason to, yes.

_To: Kurt (12:10am)_  
Is because I feel like it a reason?

_From: Kurt (12:11am)_  
I guess it is.

_To: Kurt (12:53am)_  
Can I borrow your social values notes from wed?

_From: Kurt (12:54am)_  
If I say yes, can I sleep?

_To: Kurt (12:54am) Yes_

_From: Kurt (12:55am)_  
I’ll bring them to theatre history tomorrow.

_To: Kurt (3:06am)_  
You think I’m cuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuute, you wanna kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiss me

_From: Kurt (3:08am)_  
I have to be sitting in class in five hours. I will not hesitate to murder you.

_To: Kurt (3:09am)_  
We have a truce. Finn would get upset

_From: Kurt (3:10am)_  
Truce be damned, Finn will understand.

_From: Finn (3:13am)_  
Dude, if you want to keep him from sleeping, it’s your funeral.

_To: Kurt (3:14am)_  
Tattletale

* * *

**_8 weeks to opening night..._**

Rachel made it through auditions with a modicum of dignity, but sitting down to cast had her frazzled. In the end, everyone had to sit down with her, reminding her of good traits for certain actors and making her explain her more questionable choices. Sam nearly threw a fit when she stated her desire to cast her ex, a super-senior named Jesse, as the Cat in the Hat, but Mercedes calmed him. She had been in the audition room, and she could vouch for the fact that he was probably the only one with the acting chops for the roll. Others were cast with no debate, such as a shy sophomore named Marley as Gertrude and a loud junior named Kitty as Mayzie. There were also a few people that weren’t actually in the department who tried out.

“Who the hell is that?” Santana asked when Rachel announced her intention to cast Sebastian Smythe as General Genghis Khan Schmitz.

“My roommate,” Sam said. “He’s a film major and I talked him into it. I think he’d be good for the role.”

“He had the attitude, that’s for sure,” Quinn said, wrinkling her nose. “I’ve never seen anyone so arrogant just while filling out the audition form.” She glanced over at Sam to see if she’d offended him, but he just shrugged.

“Yeah, he’s kind of an ass, but he’s done stuff for the Student Film Association before, so he does actually know how to act.”

“Plus, if he doesn’t have a professional attitude, I can blackmail him into pretending.” She scribbled his name onto a cast list. “Same with Jesse.”

“Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t,” Kurt muttered, and Puck had to agree.

* * *

**_7 weeks, 4 days to opening night..._ **

“I can see why Rachel cast him as Jojo,” Kurt said. “He’s certainly short enough to be a child.”

“And way too fucking perky,” Puck added. As soon as the cast list was out, Kurt was setting up times for everyone to be measured for their costumes. He wanted to get everyone done in two days, if possible, but that required help. Since Puck had the same schedule, it made sense for him to write down the numbers as Kurt took them and called them off.

“You know he was flirting with you, right?”

“He was not,” Kurt said adamantly, although his light blush betrayed him.

“He was. You may not be able to tell, but I know when people flirt.”

“People don’t flirt with me.”

“Adam flirted with you for months,” Puck reminded him. “He sighed every time he said your name. Every fucking time.”

“You’re lying.”

“You could probably get on that if you wanted to,” Puck said, gesturing to the curtain where one Blaine Anderson had just exited. He didn’t really want him to, but he was trying to be supportive and shit.

“I don’t really want to.” Kurt was shuffling through the measurement sheets, even though he knew exactly who was coming in next. “There’s no point in starting something with a sophomore when I’m in the spring of my senior year. No matter what, I’m leaving in two months, and he still has two years.”

“What about someone who’s leaving, too?”

Kurt didn’t say anything, leaving a tense silence in the room. It was only broken with the entry of their next victim.

“You’re the waffle roommate.”

Puck looked up in shock, trying to place Sebastian as someone he might recognize. It took a moment, but when he stripped off his bulky hoodie to reveal a tight white undershirt, it clicked.

“Oh, you’re the guy that hooked up with Adam that one time.”

“I’m Kurt Hummel, I’m the costume designer,” Kurt said, measuring tape in hand. “Right now that we’re all acquainted,” he unraveled the tape, “hold still and don’t speak while we get this done.”

Sebastian had a stunned look on his face, but did as he was told, lifting his arms and such while Kurt rattled off numbers and Puck scribbled them down as legibly as possible. When Kurt went for the inseam though, Sebastian obviously couldn’t help himself.

“Usually I’d make you buy me a drink first.”

“Like I haven’t heard that one before,” Kurt muttered as he stretched the tape, then called the number and proceeded to manipulate Sebastian’s body further. “However, that is the cheapest I’ve heard it. Most people require dinner.”

“I just don’t see the point in prolonging the inevitable.” A few more measurements and Sebastian was done. “So how about that drink? Or we can skip the drink and get right to the goods.”

“I don’t date the cast,” Kurt said, not looking at him. Sebastian looked like he wanted to say something but Puck waved him out.

“We’ve got a lot of people to get through today, so you’ll have to ask later.”

Sebastian must have seen the logic in this statement, because he left without further fuss, although a call of “Later, waffles,” had some of the grant workers in the costume studio looking at him curiously. He waved them off and went back into the fitting room with Kurt.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Kurt said, although he still looked a little flustered. “Why did he call you the waffle roommate?”

“You know how Adam was our roommate last year while Finn tried the whole RA thing?” Kurt nodded. Finn thought it might be cool to be an RA, but he had a hard time being the bad guy, so he moved in with Puck and Tina after Adam graduated and moved out. “Well they hooked up once, at our place, and the next morning, Sebastian wanders out to the kitchen in one of Adam’s tank tops with some kind of mesh shirt in his hand. And I was sitting at the kitchen table eating waffles and studying, so I just offered him some, and he stayed for breakfast.” Puck shrugged. “Pretty cool guy. When he’s hungover, anyway.”

Kurt laughed. “You would be the person to feed breakfast to someone else’s one night stand.”

“Not the weirdest breakfast I’ve had,” Puck said, shrugging. “Not even close.”

Looking up from his papers, Kurt said, “With a lead-in like that, you have to tell me.”

Puck looked away for a moment, debating whether or not to tell the truth or make up something. “Didn’t actually meet Jake until I was a senior and he was a freshman.” Everyone knew the two were half-brothers and that Jake had followed Puck to Everman as soon as he graduated, instead of taking a year off like his brother. But the full truth of their relationship was never revealed, just bits and pieces to a few people. “When he told me we shared a jackass sperm donor, we stayed at a Denny’s all night talking until the waitress kicked us out.” He examined his cuticles, not wanting to look Kurt in the eye. “Got back to my place around five in the morning and got the chewing out of a lifetime from my ma. Then she called Jake’s mom and she came over and yelled at us some more. When they finally put two and two together and realized who the other was, Ma looked like she wanted to claw Tanisha’s eyes out.” Puck smiled fondly. “Then Sarah comes wandering down the stairs in her monkey pajamas, asking why everyone’s yelling and can she have pancakes. Good thing too, because it looked like Jake was about to piss his pants.”

“Whatever story you’re telling, I was not,” came a voice from the doorway. Puck and Kurt looked up to see Jake himself standing there.

“Not even the morning our moms met?”

Jake paled slightly and winced. “Okay, maybe that time. But you were right there with me.”

“Never said I wasn’t,” Puck admitted. “Thought we’d have to scrape together bail money.”

“Think we could get them to fight just so we can see who would have won?” Jake asked.

“Nah, they’re actually friends now. They have book club together and the whole ‘fucked over by Jonah Puckerman’ support system.”

Kurt suppressed a snort and the brothers looked over at him. He waved them off. “Sorry, but you two have made me realize what people mean when they say Finn and I act like we’ve always been brothers. And I hate to interrupt the bonding, but we need to get Thing 2 over here measured because I promised Sam I would find costumes for his visible set crew and I only have so much time.”

“Wait, why am I Thing 2?”

“Because he’s the designer and he said so,” Puck said. “Now let him work or I’ll start jabbing you with safety pins.”

* * *

**_7 weeks to opening night..._**

They all saw it coming. Mercedes had mentioned this moment specifically back in December when they were assigning the production crew. Kurt shut down the sad attempt at a denial. Everyone had prepared for it in their own way, not knowing who would get caught in the crossfire.

Scary Berry had arrived.

It was the last rehearsal before spring break when it happened. The entire cast was on stage, working on the frantic climax number. They had been distracted for most of the day, a consequence of meeting the Friday before a week-long vacation. Their Horton, Ryder, was too busy making goo-goo eyes with Unique, the powerhouse freshman playing Sour Kangaroo, for them to pull off being on opposite sides of the conflict. Hunter had made an off-hand comment to Sugar that offended her, and it escalated to the point that Mr. and Mrs. Mayor were no longer speaking to each other. The Wickersham brothers were arm-wrestling during breaks to try and impress the Bird Girls, even though it clearly wasn’t working. Marley and Kitty were bickering, Sebastian was hitting on Blaine, and the Jungle Creatures weren’t even pretending to pay attention anymore. Only the Whos were sitting patiently, waiting for direction and following through. When Jesse tried to offer a bit of well-intentioned advice, Rachel snapped.

According to Quinn, she sent everyone home an hour early and told them they had to come back ready to work on the Monday after break or she would start grabbing understudies. Once the door closed behind the last cast member, she sent the mass text to the production crew, scheduling a mandatory meeting an hour from then anywhere she could get a margarita. The consensus seemed to be the sports bar within walking distance of campus.

By the time Puck got there, Rachel was already on her second drink and Sam’s thumb was rubbing circles into her hand to calm her. It wasn’t working. She was still agitated, scribbling things into her notebook only to cross them out or even rip out the pages. Mercedes and Quinn were chatting quietly over their cocktails, occasionally shooting looks to the other end of the table where the director was sitting. Finn and Santana were both watching her and holding bottles of beer. Finn’s gaze was wary whereas Santana’s was more exasperated. Puck got a draft for himself and sat, watching rest drift in. The place was empty for a Friday night, probably due to the majority of the nearby population going on vacation.

As soon as Mike dropped into a seat with a pair of wineglasses for himself and Tina, Rachel stood and cleared her throat.

“I want to make some changes.”

The murmur that wound around the table was less than pleased, not that she noticed. Rachel simply launched into a laundry list of alterations, reading off the crumpled sheets of paper and squinting to see if there was anything important behind her impatient mark-outs. A few things made sense, such as her brilliant idea to make the umbrellas and swords the same thing for the Whos. Puck could even see Finn making rough sketches on a corner of a paper napkin. Most of it was ridiculous, and she’d realize that as soon as she calmed down. This is just what happened when she felt like she’d lost control of the production. Instead of being the leader and delegating tasks, she tried to do everything herself.

They’d let her go until she ran out of steam, followed by using rational arguments to try and change her mind. Until then, it was just a matter of biting their tongues and riding out the wave.

“Artie, Santana, you two are going to have to figure out the hangings for lights and speakers. I don’t want to hear any fighting between you. I want it to both look and sound good, so don’t make me choose when you inevitably want to hang something in the same place. Just make it work or I’ll alter the designs myself.” Santana pursed her lips, obviously dying to say something, but Artie winked at her and she smirked instead. If Rachel was willing to relinquish this control, they’d take it and run.

She then turned on the choreographers, not that they noticed. Mike was not-so-surreptitiously playing Words With Friends under the table and Brittany was stirring her Sex on the Beach with a tiny pink umbrella. Tina seemed to care more about how Rachel was ripping into their work, her hand clenched tightly around her drink. When Rachel looked down at her notes, Puck tossed a sugar packet across the table at Tina’s face, plastering on an innocent grin when she turned her glare. Kurt, who had ended up next to him, snorted. It was enough to break the tension, though.

“And finally, costumes.” Kurt looked up, attentive face on. He was one who tried to use her rants to fish out the good and leave the bad. “I’m not sure I like the loose interpretations, so I’d like to get a few more nods to who these characters actually are. I’m thinking adding feathers to the various birds, whiskers on Jesse, graying Ryder’s face, that kind of thing. In fact, I’d prefer it if you could just redesign the costumes for those playing animals and make it clear. I still like the Whos and the Things, but everyone else could benefit from a change. Do you think you can do that?”

Kurt sat stock-still. Rachel was actually waiting for an answer, not just plowing through and ignoring him. She appeared to be dead serious. Puck could feel the energy radiating off Kurt, so the outburst was no surprise to him.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Several people around the table flinched, Finn so violently that his beer sloshed onto the wood. After nearly four years, they knew each other’s warning signs inside and out. Rachel may have been prone to fits of obsessive control, but Kurt could be downright vicious when he got defensive, especially over his designs. It didn’t help that Rachel’s redesign request was the most ridiculous thing she could have pulled out on her rant. Barring major complications, there shouldn’t be complete redesigns after casting.

Rachel looked a little taken aback, like she didn’t see what was so out of line about her suggestion. Everyone else around the table was watching the pair, expressions running from fear (Finn) to thinly veiled glee (Santana). If the situation wasn’t diffused quickly, Kurt and Rachel could get their group thrown out, for the night if not for longer.

Rather than risk losing a hang-out spot this close to graduation, Puck stood up and grabbed Kurt’s arm. He hauled him out of the chair and over towards the bathrooms where they could at least pretend to have privacy. Kurt looked like he wanted to protest, but Puck cut him off.

“You know how Rachel is when she gets like this. She goes absolutely batshit, and this is proof because your designs are awesome. Just grit your teeth and get through tonight.” Puck braced his hands on Kurt’s shoulders, causing the other man to look at him instead of glaring out into the bar. “We’ll all take off to Santana’s aunt’s place in the morning and spend break in a beach house. At some point, Rachel will get drunk and cry about how we’re the best friends she’s ever had, and by the time we come back, she’ll have forgotten all about her stupid ideas.” Puck squeezed Kurt’s shoulders in comfort. “But right now, you just need to calm down, babe, or Finn won’t be able to pick up a pizza here when it’s his turn to cook.”

Kurt blinked a few times, then arched an eyebrow. “Babe?”

Puck snorted at his expression. “That’s what you take away from that?”

“No, I get it,” Kurt sighed. “I know I shouldn’t take it personally but she gets under my skin. Downside to having your best friend be your director.” He rolled his shoulders back and tiled his head from side to side. It looked like he was getting ready for a bar fight. “Yes Rachel, I’ll be happy to rethink my entire concept and present the changes to you in a week. Sound good?”

“Make it really dry,” Puck muttered as they walked back to the table. “It’ll go right over Rachel’s head and might make Quinn shoot that scotch and soda out of her nose.”

* * *

**_6 weeks to opening night..._**

Back in October, in a fit of midterm-related insanity, Tina had somehow gotten it into her head that they were never going to see each other again after graduation. To appease her, and to move on with their studying, the group had decided that they would spend spring break together, one last hurrah before time went on. Santana volunteered her aunt’s beach house on Padre Island, and everyone else agreed that a week at _the_ spring break hotspot sounded like a blast.

When they arrived, worn out from the plane ride and the cars that took them to the beach, they realized that Padre Island was not the same as South Padre Island.

Their little strip of beach was not the party central they had envisioned, but they made the most of what they had. There were decent tourist traps on the mainland and plenty of sand and surf to keep them occupied when they didn’t want to go far. The nearby piers had some restaurants that welcomed the business a group of twelve college students would provide. Most importantly, the local liquor store was open until nine six nights a week.

Friday night, Sam and Finn pulled a bunch of dry wood out of the pile by the house and built a bonfire on the beach. It wasn’t very large fire, but it would keep them warm when the temperature dropped. Santana and Brittany filled a cooler with ice and a variety of beer, enough that everyone’s tastes would be satisfied. It took up a spot on the edge of the circle, and the drinks were passed out. The group huddled close to protect against the breeze coming off the water, but far enough from the fire that no one would burn. Sam and Rachel were cuddled to one side, with Finn, Santana, and Brittany in a pile next to them. Tina was practically sitting in Mike’s lap, the diamond he’d given her at a dawn picnic the morning before glinting in the firelight. Artie was reclining in a beach chair, with Quinn resting her head on one of the armrests and Mercedes on the other. When Kurt finally came down to the water, he took stock of the seating arrangements, and sat himself down next to Puck. Puck slung an arm around his shoulders in a way that would seem friendly to everyone else. But if he pulled Kurt in a little too tight, they were the only ones that knew.

The first hour was mostly story telling. Fond memories of Mike’s acting, Artie’s improvised stage movement assignments, and Brittany’s bizarre (but functional) mnemonics for theatre history. Finn told about the time he convinced the new guy in the prop shop to google image search ‘seventies porn stars’ in hopes of finding good mustache pictures. Mercedes mentioned some of the prank calls the box office had gotten during her semester there, most of which Puck had to own up to. When it reached the point that Rachel looked like she was about to start crying about how they were all her best friends, Santana demanded that they all stop being so sappy and start playing drinking games.

There were too many people and not enough cards for King’s Cup, and Truth or Dare was quickly vetoed, so they decided on Never Have I Ever for lack of a better idea. It was a relatively tame game for them. Half the fun was finding out new things about each other, which was proving difficult after four years together. Still, they dug out some truths about who had hooked up with who and what exactly had happened during the production of _The Taming of the Shrew_ freshman year. There were no real surprises until Quinn’s second turn.

“Never have I ever had a pregnancy scare.” She ducked as Santana leaned over to cuff her on the back of the head. Their group had found out about Santana’s scare after it was over and she told them herself, but Quinn had a front row seat as her sophomore roommate. What caught everyone’s attention was Puck lifting his bottle in time with Santana.

“What?” he said, trying to shake the feeling of the stares on him. Even Kurt was looking up at him from where he was squished into Puck’s side.

“Can a guy even have a pregnancy scare?” Finn asked from the other side of the circle.

Had it been anyone else, Puck probably would have been pissed, but Finn sounded genuinely confused. He rarely talked about his past, and this was one of the reasons. But these were his best friends, the people he could trust with his life. If anyone deserved some of the truth, they did.

“Imagine you’re sixteen and one of the cheerleaders you banged has come up to you saying she’s late. Imagine she wants you to buy the test and be there when she’s taking it. Imagine you’re holding her hand and waiting for this stick she just peed on to show either a plus or a minus.” He paused, hoping it seemed like dramatic effect. In reality, he had just been hit with the memories himself and was trying to regain his footing. “Tell me that doesn’t sound terrifying.”

Kurt wrapped an arm around Puck’s waist and squeezed in a silent show of support. Everyone else seemed to get that it was a sensitive subject for him, so they moved on, Artie picking up with “Never have I ever swam in the campus fountain.” Half a dozen of them threw caps and tabs in his direction while they all drank to the favorite so-called hazing ritual of the theatre department.

* * *

**_5 weeks, 4 days to opening night..._**

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end, and Spring Break was no exception. Everything looked closer on the other side of the vacation. Deadlines were coming up, opening night among them. In a burst of frantic activity, Kurt had called for a late-night fabric cutting session in the costume studio. Once everything was cut, he could have the shop grants help him put it together during the day, but he needed the pieces as fast as possible.

Finn and Tina had helped early in the evening, but left early due to 8am classes. That left Puck bent over a table, scissors in his hand as he cut a giant circle out of yellow vinyl. Kurt was in the dye room, trying to get the right color of sleeves for the Wickersham Brothers. If the amount of swearing Puck was hearing was any indication, it wasn’t going well.

Puck was about to suggest they take a break and grab something from the all-night pizza place down the street, when his phone rang. He had to pick through his bag to find it, and it stopped ringing before he did. He barely caught sight of a little girl with blonde curls before the screen went dark. “Shit.”

“MIss an important call?”

He looked over at where Kurt was standing in the dye room doorway, still wearing protective gear. “Important caller.” Puck was already dialing back. If he was getting a call this late, it had to be a big deal.

“Who?”

“Beth.”

“Who’s Beth?”

Instead of answering, Puck turned his attention to the phone that had just picked up on the other end. He was startled when he didn’t get the older woman’s voice he had been expecting, but a little girl’s, one that sounded frightened.

“Daddy?”

“Hey baby girl, what’s wrong? You’re up a little late to be calling me.” He could practically feel the questions rolling off of Kurt, so he turned his back on the other man and focused on the call.

“I had a bad dream.” That explained everything. He heard her snuffling, probably blowing her nose into a tissue held by Shelby. “The police that we saw at school today told me and Mommy that you were killed by a drunk driver and that I’d never see you again. And when I woke up and told Mommy, she said we could call you so I knew you were okay.”

“I’m absolutely okay,” Puck said soothingly. “I’m just fine and I’m working late with my friend Kurt. You’ll be able to see for yourself when you and Mommy come see me in a month.”

“I know, but I was just scared.”

“And that’s okay,” he said. “You had a nightmare, it’s okay to be scared. But I promise you that I am just fine, okay?”

More sniffling. “Okay.”

“Okay, now give the phone back to Mommy so I can talk to her really quick. I love you, pumpkin.”

“Love you too, Daddy. Bye-bye.”

“Bye-bye.” Puck waited as the phone was handed off and Shelby got a better hold on Beth. As soon as he heard the breathing next to the mouthpiece, he said, “Put her in bed and come back?”

“Sounds good,” was the tired answer, so Puck settled in to the waiting game. Beth had been getting better about going to bed, but it was always a toss up after a nightmare. Chances were good that Shelby would have to promise to come back as soon as she was done on the phone. It took a good three minutes of Puck standing there waiting with Kurt staring at his back before she said, “You there?”

Puck went off. “What in the hell are they doing at her school?”

“It was a presentation about drug and alcohol awareness,” Shelby sighed. “I knew they were doing it, but I didn’t know the content or realize they’d have uniformed officers and a video.”

“Didn’t these kind of things used to just be a bunch of impressive people saying ‘hugs not drugs’ and handing out stickers?”

“Apparently they’re all about scaring kids straight in the first grade.” If Puck ever doubted the decisions he’d made regarding Beth, the note of sarcasm in Shelby’s voice proved he’d made the right choice. “It’s a new program, so they’re asking for parent input on the results. I’ll make sure to leave a complaint about age-appropriateness and scarring the children.”

“Make sure it’s a good one.” He looked over his shoulder at where Kurt was standing, still slightly slack-jawed at what he could hear of the conversation. “I should probably go and you should check on our girl. Give her an extra kiss from me?”

“Always,” Shelby answered. “See you in April?”

“See ya.” Puck hung up the phone and smiled one last time at the picture on his daughter on the screen before it kicked back to the regular background. He tucked the phone into his pocket and returned to the cutting table as if nothing had happened. He was halfway through the inner circle of the skirt when Kurt put his hand in the middle of the fabric. “Can I help you?”

“Who was that? On the phone, who were you talking to? I mean--” Kurt blushed slightly, probably realizing what he sounded like. “If you don’t mind telling me, who was that?”

Puck set down the scissors and looked at Kurt properly. This was not the kind of thing you revealed casually. “You remember that pregnancy scare I mentioned last week during Never Have I Ever?” Kurt nodded. “Well it was less of a scare and more of an actual pregnancy. One that resulted in a child.”

“Beth.”

Kurt said it with such certainty that Puck found himself nodding along. “Yeah, Beth is my daughter. That was her and her mom Shelby on the phone just now.”

“And Shelby’s the cheerleader?”

Puck couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing at the idea of Shelby in a skimpy cheerleading outfit. “Yeah, no,” he said to Kurt’s borderline offended face. “Shelby is her adopted mom. The bio mom is long gone from this picture. We were sixteen and so not ready, so we gave her up and I kept in contact with Shelby.”

The nodding continued as Kurt processed what he’d just been told. “So you’re a dad?”

“I’m a dad,” Puck confirmed.

“Who else knows? On campus, anyway.”

That gave Puck pause, as he’d never bothered to think about that. “Quite a few faculty and staff around the whole campus,” he admitted. “Pretty sure most of the department staff knows because I mentioned it to Figgins when I was first accepted into the program. He might have told the others so they know I have a kid who I’ll drop everything for, including school work if I have to.”

“What about other students? I’m assuming Jake knows, but who else?”

“Yeah, Beth calls him Uncle Jake. She’s only met him twice, but anyone who sneaks her candy before dinner gets remembered.” He’d only done it once, but that’s because Puck made Jake clean the bathroom after Beth threw up everywhere in it during the previous Thanksgiving. “Tina knows,” Puck admitted. “She caught me on the phone last year when was trying to plan for my Christmas flight home. I was planning to stop and pick up Beth during a long layover and she was confused as to why I needed a seat for a young child. I don’t think anyone else knows. If Rachel and Quinn ever sat down and discussed it, they might be able to figure it out. Finn is surprisingly unobservant so far.”

“You’re telling me,” Kurt said, obviously thankful for the change in topic. “I’ve been able to sneak all kinds of things past him over the years.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

Of course, Kurt clammed up at that. “I’m not telling you!”

“I just told you about my secret daughter. Surely you can share the contraband of young Hummel’s life.”

“There was not contraband,” Kurt insisted. “I’m just saying, I’ve carried life size Beyonce cut outs past his room without so much as the blink of an eye. The only reason I didn’t get the plate of roast chicken up the stairs is because he smelled it.”

“Dude, you’re telling me. I once got tackled carrying a peanut butter sandwich.” Kurt laughed. “Speaking of, I’m starving. Want to pause and grab a few pizzas from down the street? I’ll buy.”

Kurt gasped and put his hand over his heart. “Noah Puckerman, is this a date?”

“It is if you want it to be.” When Kurt started floundering at his frankness, Puck wiggled his eyebrows and said, “Especially if you let me get to second base.”

Kurt laughed at that, then turned to go put the protective gear back in the dye room. The goggles were already pushed onto his head, messing up his hair. They just needed to be put in the case along with the apron, while the rubber gloves would go in the trash. He stopped halfway to the tiny room and looked back at Puck.

“Thanks for sharing with me.”

“No problem.” Puck knew better than to think Kurt was talking about the pizza.

* * *

**_3 weeks to opening night..._**

The next few weeks had the same quick pace as every other run up to opening night. The designers were almost in over their heads. Anyone with time and a spare pair of hands bounced around to wherever they were needed, and no one was doing much beyond working and sleeping or eating. Puck had spent a few nights with Finn and Brittany making giant fish for McElligott’s pool. He was also there for the epic blow out between Santana and Artie over who would hang what where. Apparently Rachel was sticking to her decree that she wouldn’t be helping them, so Puck stood there with a Source-4 next to him for half an hour, waiting for Artie to stop trying to use logic and Santana to stop bitching in Spanish so they could tell him what to do. It would have been slightly entertaining if it weren’t more terrifying.

Three weeks before opening, Sam sent out a mass text asking for help finishing the set painting. Everyone was told to show up when they could and leave when they needed to. It was very informal, with various people drifting in and out and the shop trying and failing to close down around them. Mercedes walked out around seven, promising to be back in an hour after her church group’s dinner meeting. Puck barely noticed, he was so focused on the stripe of black he was almost done painting between the purple and turquoise. When Kurt touched his shoulder, he nearly jumped a foot in the air.

“Jesus, what the fuck, man?”

Kurt just cocked his head like he hadn’t done anything. “I thought you were Jewish.”

Puck put down the brush and rolled back from where he was kneeling to sit on his feet. “I am. That means J-Money is one of my people, so it’s no worse than saying Carl or something.”

“I don’t quite think that’s how it works.”

“I don’t care.” He popped his knuckles, trying to shake the feeling that his hands were cramping into shape. “Did you need something, or do you just enjoy scaring the shit out of me?”

“Well, I didn’t know you would be so in the zone. I’ve never seen you paint like that before.”

Puck was nonplussed. “This is how I always work.” He stood and grabbed the bucket of red, carrying it over to Sam’s Box of Brilliance (or The Stupid Fucking Box from Hell, depending on who you asked). The oversize, childlike crate was supposed to be red and white, but at the moment it was just the tan of the wood. “I might joke around in class, but when I work, I work hard. If I don’t, there’s no point in me being there.”

Kurt watched him for a moment, then grabbed a brush to start painting as well. They worked in silence for a while, faint strains of classic rock playing from the shop’s office. Somewhere around the middle of the box, Puck accidentally painted along the edge of Kurt’s hand. An apology was on the tip of his tongue when he was struck still by the wet slide of paint on his cheek.

He looked up to see Kurt smirking at him. “Oops.”

Growling, Puck struck out with his own brush and smeared red onto Kurt’s arm. Kurt aimed for Puck’s neck. Puck grabbed a different brush from another bucket and attacked with both hands, chasing Kurt around the work space. Kurt abandoned his brush for two different colors and struck back, tagging Puck’s shirt. The battle raged on, neither boy willing to give up, until Kurt lost his balance and landed on the tarp. Puck dove on top of him and pinned him down, threatening to paint his hair.

“Uncle, uncle,” Kurt cried, laughing too hard to breathe. Puck wanted to laugh as well, but seeing Kurt under him, breathless, was too much temptation to handle. He leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to Kurt’s parted lips. He pulled back a little, just enough for Kurt to see his smile.

Kurt smiled back and leaned up to press his lips to Puck’s. The adrenaline from the chase made them both sloppy, tongues tangling together and a little too much wetness. Puck wanted to run his fingers through Kurt’s hair, but stopped himself when he remembered the paint on them. Kurt had no qualms about further ruining Puck’s shirt, sliding his hands onto the other man’s back to pull him closer. Eventually, Puck had to pull back or risk pushing a little too far for a public space.

“Not that I’m complaining,” he said as he caught his breath, “but what was that all about?”

“It’s been insane these few weeks, like it always is, but I’ve seen every single person have at least one meltdown. Not you. You’ve been dealing with everyone else’s shit and calming us down, and that has to be stressful in itself. So I thought,” Kurt said, brushing a few flyaway hairs up off his face, “instead of keeping all that stress bottled up, I’d let you work hard, play harder. Thus, the paint.”

“And the kissing?” Puck didn’t want to deal with the same fallout they’d had back in the winter.

Kurt was quiet for a moment, obviously thinking the same thing. “I may not be the kind of guy who makes out with cute guys at parties, but apparently I’m the kind of guy who makes out with cute guys I’m falling for a little in scene shops.”

Puck’s heart warmed at the idea that Kurt was falling for him a little, because he’d been feeling the same way. It was why he’d let him find out about Beth. Rather than make a big deal about their feelings, he just sing-songed, “You think I’m cuuuuuuuuuute, you wanna kiiiiiiiiiss me.”

Kurt snorted. “How many times have you seen that movie?”

“Back off, it’s one of my sister’s favorites. Besides, Sandra Bullock is a badass in that one. A gun and donuts in her gown? It’s like if I was a hot FBI woman.”

“I don’t think you have the hips for evening wear.”

“Oh really?” Puck ground his hips into Kurt’s. “So what do I have the hips for?”

In answer, Kurt grabbed Puck by the neck and hauled him in for another kiss, a little slower than before. They continued kissing lazily on the tarp until they heard the side door slam, announcing the arrival of someone else in the building. They quickly righted themselves and grabbed brushes, on the edge of giggling at being caught.

Mercedes walked in with a few bottles of water and took in the paint splattered all over the tarp and the boys. “What happened here?”

A short glance at each other was all it took for them to burst out laughing.

* * *

**_11 days to opening night..._ **

As the publicity manager, it was a given that Puck would be working in the box office selling tickets. As someone whose work had been finished over a month before, it was a given that Tina would be most easily convinced to join him. And as two friends who spent large chunks of time waiting for someone to show up and buy a ticket, it was a given that they would spend a lot of time gossiping.

The two o'clock post-class rush had finally thinned when the conversation turned from Sue's latest insane project for the freshman to Mike and Tina's initial wedding plans.

"It's gonna be small, no matter what my mother says," Tina said, switching the computer screen from the ticket system to solitaire. "I just can't deal with that many people expecting me to talk with them and making me the center of attention."

"Isn't the wedding supposed to be about making the bride the center of attention?" Puck asked as he sorted the cash box.

"Exactly. I don't want that. It'll be close family and friends, maybe plus ones if they're a serious relationship."

"So you're telling me I can't bring a one night date?"

Tina was about to respond when a tall man with floppy bangs walked up to the glass. She pulled up the ticket screen and smiled. "Can I help you?"

"Uh, yeah, this is where I buy tickets, right? For the Survey of Musical Theatre class?"

Puck barely kept himself from rolling his eyes. Survey students were the bane of the box office because they knew very little about how theatre worked, but acted like experts. "Yeah, how many and what night?"

"Do you have a military discount?"

The question threw Puck for a loop, and apparently Tina too if the baffled look on her face was any indication. "I don't actually know. So, we do today. Executive decision."

"Works for me," the guy said, smiling. "In that case, one student and one military ticket for Friday night." He slid his student ID over. "Gonna try and drag my husband out for a date."

"Oh, how long have you been married?" Tina asked as she put in the guy's name.

"Going on two years. He just got back from his second tour and he's being a stubborn homebody. He'll probably hate the show, but if I get him a ticket, he'll make himself go."

"That'll be ten dollars," Puck said, accepting the cash as it was handed over. Tina kept talking with the guy as she printed his tickets, leaving Puck to answer the phone when it rang. “Everman University box office, how may I help you?” By the time he got done providing directions to the theatre to a woman with a thick Russian accent, the guy had left.

“Apparently they got married the day he turned eighteen,” Tina said, gesturing to the window. “I can’t decide if that’s romantic or stupid.”

“Probably a little of both. Romantic is usually stupid.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a little romance.”

“But people get too caught up in the big gestures.” He propped his feet up on the counter. “I’m more interested in the day-to-day. I want something where we can tease the hell out of each other and share our secrets and just be ourselves.” His mind flashed back to red handprints on his shirt and paint on his face. “Something that’s worth working at and easy as breathing when it’s right.”

Tina gasped with a hand over her heart. “Noah Puckerman, a secret sap.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, pushing her shoulder. The move only served to roll both of their chairs away from each other.

“So I take it you won’t actually bring a one night stand to my future wedding?”

Puck smirked. “Trust me, if I bring someone, I’ll make sure their name is on the guest list.”

* * *

**_7 days to opening night..._**

Paper tech went as smoothly as it ever did, with minimal frustration and tears as the designers sat with the stage managers and the chosen crew heads to talk through cues and transitions. The first night of tech rehearsal was a different story. The cast was at panic level four, while the crew was at panic level nine. Props were breaking, set was falling over, the lights were constantly being adjusted, and they hadn’t even brought the costumes over yet. As Quinn so aptly called it over the headset, it was a fustercluck.

Miraculously, they made it all the way through the first act, and the night officially ended at 11:30. Unofficially, the twelve of them drove over to Mike’s apartment, where a bottle of tequila and a few dozen envelopes would take center stage.

Everyone had been hearing about graduate schools, internships, and paid positions over the past few weeks, but no one had really had time to think about it. Instead, they hoarded their news and brought it all to Mike’s for a grand celebration/mourning of their futures. After everyone got settled, Rachel started them off.

“I applied to several graduate programs, but I have decided on the University of Washington in Seattle. They have an excellent directing program and Seattle is a budding theatrical city.”

Next to her, Sam nodded. “I’m heading to Seattle too, for an assistant designer position at a small theatre. It doesn’t pay much, but what does in this business?”

“Already being famous,” Kurt quipped, causing them all to laugh a little.

“I’m going to Iowa for an MFA in Design,” Artie said. “Might be the middle of nowhere, theatre-wise, but they’re offering good money.” He turned to Finn, who took a deep breath.

“How many of you have heard the rumors about Ken?” Most of them nodded. Gossip around the department said that Ken Tanaka, the scenic studio supervisor, had had a mental breakdown and was being let go. Shannon Beiste had been running the shop for a while, in addition to teaching her technical classes. “Well, they’re true. And after talking with Shannon and Figgins, they agreed to hire me on starting next fall as the new studio supervisor.” Brittany gave a short burst of applause, while the others murmured their congratulations. Finn fit in that studio, and had basically started running it even before Ken’s issues came to light.

“I’m going to LA to dance,” Brittany said. “I’ve already talked to an agent and he said he can get me into music videos.”

“That’s awesome, Britt,” Mike said. “I’m also going to dance, but I’ll be in Boston. Couldn’t be more different from Los Angeles.”

“You gonna follow your man, Tina?” Santana asked, sounding like she wasn’t really interested, which meant she probably cared.

“Sort of? I got accepted to Amherst, and they have an amazing program, so I’ll be a hundred miles away.” She shrugged, and Mike snaked an arm around her shoulders, planting a kiss on her temple. “It’ll be hard, but doable.”

“Well, I’ll be working right here in town. I have no money, and I need some before I can pick up and move anywhere to do the whole follow my dreams thing.” Santana stared up at the ceiling. “If any of you feel the need to visit, I guess my couch will be open.”

“I might take you up on that,” Quinn said. “I have a few stage managing gigs lined up here after graduation. They’ll take me through August.”

“You mean I’d have to room with you again? Wasn’t once enough?” She was smiling though. “You pay half the rent, and clean the bathrooms.”

“Deal.”

“Well I’m going back home,” Mercedes said. “One of the local community theaters needs a new administrator, and that arts administration minor is more useful than I thought. I’ll live with my parents until I can afford my own place, or leave completely.”

“You mean to tell me that no one is headed to the Great White Way?” Kurt asked. “Am I the only one going to New York City?”

Puck cleared his throat. “City University of New York, Brooklyn. You?”

“Columbia,” Kurt said. “I’m having to sell my soul in student loans, but it’ll be worth it.”

“It’ll be nice to see a familiar face in the city.”

Kurt smiled. “It will be.”

Santana rolled her eyes. “Saps.”

“Says the one that offered her couch to all of us,” Puck fired back.

“Whatever,” she said, standing. “Now that we know what we’re doing for the rest of our lives, let’s drink up!” Santana opened the bottle and starting pouring, passing out shot glasses full of tequila. “We’re in the home stretch now, but it’s everybody’s favorite time of production: tech.” She raised her glass in a mockery of a toast. “Welcome to hell week, bitches!”

* * *

**_Opening night..._**

The lobby was bustling on opening night, with the production crew milling about and making small talk. Rachel clearly wanted to speak with the members of the senior project board, but Sam held her back. Mike and Tina chatted with Tina’s freshman roommate, a short girl named Dottie. Finn and Artie were talking with Shannon, while Santana and Brittany traded horror stories with Sue. Quinn and Mercedes were noticeably absent, staying backstage and keeping everyone in order. Puck had enlisted Kurt’s help to take tickets while he passed out programs and pointed people towards their seats.

The entire wheelchair row had been reserved for their group. The seats not taken by seniors were for the few family members who could make it. Santana and Artie’s mothers were there, as were Rachel’s dads and Finn and Kurt’s parents. Puck’s mom couldn’t make it, having already decided to use her vacation days to come to his graduation. Having Beth run at his legs with Shelby quickly following behind made up for that, though. Kurt smiled fondly and introduced himself to both of them as “a friend of Daddy’s.” Beth ended up being shy and hiding behind her mom’s legs, but Shelby shook his hand and said she couldn’t wait to see these innovative costumes she’d heard so much about.

Puck pretended he wasn’t blushing when Kurt smiled at him.

As people filed in to the theatre, Puck recognized a few of them from when they bought their tickets. There was the girl who left her wallet on the counter, the couple that kept arguing over who was going to pay, the boy that tried to buy a matinee ticket for opening night. Eventually, he saw a tall, familiar student with floppy hair cajoling a shorter man with longer hair.

“Stop bitching, Chris, it’s supposed to be a good show.”

“It’s a kids’ show. Why are you dragging me to see a Dr. Seuss show?”

“Because you need to get out more, see the world.” He smiled at Puck as he nabbed a few programs. “There is life beyond our apartment walls.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” the one named Chris grumbled, but he followed his partner, husband if Puck was remembering correctly, into the theatre. Puck smiled at them and glanced back to see how Kurt was holding up, and ask if he wanted to switch places, when he was struck by a sudden thought.

There was no reason to hold back on asking Kurt out anymore.

They were going to be in the same city for at least the next two years. He liked Kurt and Kurt liked him. Why wait?

“Hey Kurt!” Kurt looked over at him questioningly. “Wanna go out with me?”

Kurt’s eyes widened. “Are you seriously asking me this right now?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Maybe because my stomach is in knots and I’m still worried that the new costumes won’t hold,” Puck cringed at the thought, and at the multiple needle pricks he’d received during that morning as he tried to make new costumes for the Whos because the old ones failed to hold up. “It’s not a no, but I’d like to get through this first.”

“Get through tonight, or the whole run?”

“The whole run,” Kurt said. “That way, when you ask again, I’ll have a better answer than ‘not right now.’’’

“Fair enough,” Puck said. He dropped the stack of programs into the box and stood next to Kurt. “Just so you know, if you turn me down, you better have a damn good reason for doing it.”

“So if I can’t think of a damn good reason, I have to say yes.”

“LIke my logic trap? It’s there to make sure I have a date with you before the semester is out.”

Kurt rolled his eyes and peered out into the empty lobby. “Let’s just get through this show, first. If I get arrested for killing actors that mess up my costumes, that will kind of put a damper on our potential relationship.”

“Or I can bust you out and we can go on the run like Bonnie and Clyde.”

“How about,” Kurt said, dropping the mug in the back and shutting the theatre doors, “we just watch how our senior project turned out?”

“Mine is beautiful,” Puck said, fanning himself with a program adorned with a familiar red and white hat. “It’s you guys you need to worry about.”

“We are going to blow your mind,” Kurt said confidently.

They found their seats in the row between Beth and Burt, interrupting the strange and undoubtedly amusing conversation between the two. “I’d rather you blow something else,” Puck muttered, low enough for only the two of them hear.

If Kurt had an answer other than indignant spluttering, it was lost to Puck’s ears as the light came up and the music began.

* * *

**_Closing night..._**

Usually Mike offered his place for parties for their little group of techies. However, because this was the after party for the whole show, the cast was invited, meaning it had to be somewhere that actually had the space. As the only theatre people with a house, Finn, Puck, and Tina were volunteered.

It was a comfortable party, surrounded by friends, music, and alcohol. Quinn kept trying to rehash everything that went wrong, only to be distracted by Mercedes and Tina making her take her turn at beer pong. Santana and Brittany were dancing together, Santana crying into the other girl’s shoulder about how this was actually the end, while Artie appointed himself deejay. Rachel was perched on the kitchen counter, arm slung around Sam’s shoulders as he stood on the ground chatting with Finn and Mike about the chances for their school’s baseball team. (They weren’t good.)

Puck swept up a few empties, trying to make it easier on themselves in the morning. He was about to go for another round for the trash bin when someone grabbed his wrist and dragged him away. It took a few moments for his tipsy brain to catch up, but once he realized it was Kurt, he stopped thinking and just went with it.

Kurt dragged him out to the front yard, where they could see all the cars but no people. It was a little quieter there, the sounds of chatter drifting from the back yard and the thumping bass from in the house, but nothing that could prevent conversation. Puck was about to ask if Kurt had thought about that date, or if he wanted to answer when he was sober, but Kurt just pressed Puck up against the wall of the porch and started kissing him.

It was nothing like the first time they’d made out, breathless and giggling at the possibility of being caught. It wasn’t like the second time either, frantic and sloppy. This was slow and leisurely, like they had all the time in the world. Maybe, Puck thought as he settled his hands on Kurt’s hips, they did.

“I’m guessing this is a yes to that date?” he murmured without pulling away.

“It’s a yes to that date,” Kurt said, punctuating it with a kiss. “It’s a yes to the next date.” Another kiss. “After that, you better impress me, because there’s no automatic third date promise.”

Puck smiled. “I can live with that, because I know I’ll impress you.”

“I hope you do.”

“I will. You know why?” Kurt shook his head, prompting Puck to begin another chorus of, “You think I’m cuuuuuu--” Kurt rolled his eyes and kissed him again to shut him up.

They stayed like that for a good while, pressed against the brick porch wall. They didn’t even think about moving until Sebastian stumbled out the front door and yelled, “Get it, Waffles!” before walking off in the direction of his and Sam’s apartment. After that, a change in location seemed ideal.

Rather than deal with the flak they’d get for cutting through the house into Puck’s bedroom, the couple drifted off to the side fence that separated the yards on one side of the house. The other side had been left open, allowing for people to come and go as they pleased, but the fence offered a convenient leaning surface as well as tree cover for privacy. It wasn’t perfect, but they weren’t planning on violating any public decency laws, so it was enough.

Except for the part where they forgot that fences have two sides.

It started out quiet, just low whisperings they could barely hear over the yells at the beer pong table. It gradually got louder as more voices joined, until Brittany’s less-than-subtle, “Why are we watching Puck and Kurt kiss through the fence?” broke the spell.

Puck dropped his head to Kurt’s collarbone as Kurt continued lightly massaging the back of his neck. “I hate you all.”

“Who had the after party?” Mike asked of the apparent group on the other side. “I had ten on graduation, but I know someone had the party.”

“That would be me,” Tina said.

“You bet on us?” Kurt asked incredulously. “When?”

“February, when you finally stopped acting weird,” Santana answered. “I don’t know if you two think you were being sneaky, but you weren’t. It was really obvious, especially once Quinn fessed up about catching you two in December.”

“Quinn!”

She giggled, a little drunk and not at all ashamed. “I thought it was cute. You two make a really cute couple.”

Puck groaned. “Hate. You. All.”

Ignoring the peanut gallery, Kurt tugged at Puck’s face to make eye contact. “It’s,” he pulled out his phone and glanced at it, “two in the morning and I’m mostly sober.” He kept his voice down, refusing to give the other any more ammunition. “Want to go get pizza, take it back to my place, and watch _Best Little Whorehouse in Texas_? Rachel is going to Sam’s tonight.”

“Even though Sebastian is there?”

“According to Rachel, he doesn’t care as long as she cleans her hair out of the shower drain.” Puck snorted, because that sounded like such an apt compromise to make. “So what do you say? Pizza, movie, kissing in a bed until we fall asleep?”

Puck wanted to say it sounded like heaven, but what came out instead was, “It’s a date.”

_“An actor without techies is a naked person standing in the dark trying to emote. A techie without actors is a person with marketable skills.” -Mark Leslie_


End file.
